In the Land of the Long White Cloud

since the girl was expected at the banquet that evening. Yet Gwyneira dismissed the idea of warning her daughter. If she said anything, Fleur would make every effort to look unattractive—and in doing so reawaken Gerald’s anger. So Gwyneira merely eyed her strange visitor suspiciously when Fleur came down the stairs—as radiant and prettily dressed as Gwyneira on her first evening in Kiward Station. The girl wore a simple cream-colored dress that emphasized her light tan. It was appliquéd with gold-and brown-colored eyelet embroidery on the sleeves, neckline, and waist, which suited Fleurette’s unusual light brown, almost golden eye color. She had not put her hair up, instead braiding strands of hair on either side of her head and then binding the thin braids at the back of her head. It looked very pretty, but more importantly, served the practical purpose of keeping her hair out of her face. Fleurette always did her own hair, having rejected the housemaids’ help ever since she was a little girl.
    Fleur’s petite figure and loose hair gave her an elfin appearance. Though she looked like her mother and shared a similar temperament, Fleurette’s radiance was all her own. The girl seemed more approachable and more submissive than the young Gwyneira had been, and a glow rather than a provocative spark issued from her golden-brown eyes.
    The men in the room stared, enthralled, as she made her entrance. While the other men appeared enchanted, Gwyneira recognized an expression of naked desire in John Sideblossom’s gaze. He held Fleurette’s hand a moment too long for her taste when he greeted the girl politely.
    “Is there also a Mrs. Sideblossom?” Gwyneira asked when the hosts and guests had finally sat down to dinner. Gwyneira had assigned herself to John Sideblossom as a dining partner, but the man took so little notice of her that it bordered on rudeness. He only had eyes for Fleur, who was engaged in a rather dull conversation with the elder Lord Barrington. The lord had handed over his business ventures in Christchurch to his son and retired to a farm in the Canterbury Plains, where he was raising sheep and horses with modest success.
    John Sideblossom cast a glance at Gwyneira as though he had just noticed her for the first time.
    “No, there’s no longer a Mrs. Sideblossom,” he replied. “My wife died three years ago giving birth to my son.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Gwyneira replied, having rarely meant a platitude so honestly. “For the child as well—did I understand correctly that he lived?”
    The farmer nodded. “Yes, my son’s now practically being raised by the Maori help. Not a particularly good solution, but while he’s still little, it works. As time goes on, however, I need to look around for something else. It’s not easy to find a suitable girl.” As he spoke, he fixed his eyes again on Fleur, which angered and irritated Gwyneira. The man talked about girls like a pair of breeches!
    “Is your daughter already engaged to someone?” he inquired drily. “She seems to be a well-bred girl.”
    Gwyneira was so taken aback she hardly knew what to say. The man did not waste words.
    “Fleurette is still very young,” she finally replied evasively.
    John Sideblossom shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve always been of the opinion that you can’t marry them off soon enough; otherwise, they just get stupid ideas. And birthing is easier while they’re young. The midwife told me that back when Marylee died. Marylee was already twenty-five.”
    After these last words, he turned away from Gwyneira. Something that Gerald just said must have caught his attention, and he was soon deep in a heated conversation with several other livestock farmers.
    Gwyneira appeared calm, but she was boiling with rage inside. She was accustomed to girls being wooed for dynastic or financial reasons rather than for their personalities. But this fellow had taken it too far. Even just the way he spoke of his late wife: “Marylee was already twenty-five.” He made it sound as though she would have died of old age soon anyway, regardless of whether she had given her husband a child first or not.
    Later, as the guests formed loose groups in the salon to finish the last of the table conversation, before the ladies retired to tea andliquor in Gwyneira’s salon and the gentlemen to cigars and whiskey in Gerald’s sanctuary, John Sideblossom made a beeline for Fleurette.
    Gwyneira,